


Perhaps

by QueenSinnamon



Category: VIXX
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Mild Angst, Romance, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSinnamon/pseuds/QueenSinnamon
Summary: Perhaps it was the cold, impersonal nature of his recent shoots. Perhaps what he needed was a little bit of romance, a little bit of heart, and what better place to find it than the City of Love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lmao I forgot I had this in my drafts.  
> Enjoy! ♥

Wonshik felt lost. An artist without his muse. It's been months and not one photoshoot, perfectly done as they all were, felt inspired to him. It was just one job after another, all skill and no heart. Unacceptable.   
  
He calls Hongbin, his associate, to tell him to cancel all schedules in the next few weeks and then he's on the next flight to Paris.    
  
Perhaps it was the cold, impersonal nature of his recent shoots. Perhaps what he needed was a little bit of romance, a little bit of heart, and what better place to find it than the City of Love.   
  
But hours of walking around the city, bag slung over his shoulder, camera heavy on his neck, turned into days. What shots he could stomach to take were beautiful, but empty. Devoid of the colors, of the life he yearned to see.   
  
One more day, he decided.    
  
The crisp cold wind did nothing to soothe his heavy heart as he walked out of his hotel, his shoulders slumped as if burdened even without the weight of his bag. He brought only his camera with him today, hoping the lack of baggage would bring some sort of spontaneity.   
  
It doesn't, he finds soon enough, and he sits on the curb in defeat. It was his last day in Paris and still he was empty-handed. It was useless. He's going home tonight, wait for the ennui to pass, but as he fished in his pocket for his phone to call home, he knew it wasn't going to.   
  
Then he hears it, a voice like honey humming a cheerful little tune. He looks up to find a man across the street, wrapped from head to foot in the warmest clothes but moved as if he were unrestrained, a spring in his step as he half-danced his way through the sidewalk. His song reaches its peak and he holds on to a light post and spins around it, throwing his free arm out.   
  
Wonshik doesn't even realize he had lifted his camera to his face and snapped a photo until the man heard the click of his shutter and looked to him, startled.   
  
The photographer immediately lowered his camera, his face heating up as the man crossed the street to him. "I-I'm sorry, I was just--"   
  
"Can I see?" The man's voice is sweet and full, coaxing Wonshik to hand him the camera despite his embarrassment. The man takes a look at the picture of him, a smile instantly lighting his face, and Wonshik's heart skips a beat. "Great shot! Are you a professional? Or a hobbyist?"   
  
Wonshik mumbles nearly unintelligibly that he's a professional and the awe in the other's face couldn't have been clearer. "That's amazing. I'd love to see more of your pictures," he says as hands the camera back to Wonshik, cradled in both his hands reverently, and Wonshik takes it, the brush of his fingers on the other's palm sending a jolt through his veins. Then the man laughs, loud even as he sounds slightly embarrassed. "I mean, I'm not a pro critique or anything, I just like looking at pretty photos."   
  
Wonshik's heart swells a little with affection and he somehow finds his voice. "Well, i-if you're free, I can show you some now?" He raises the inflection of his voice to a question, afraid to come off too forward but not wanting to let go of this man, not yet.   
  
A blush darkens the man's dusky cheeks but his smile widens, if that was still even possible. "I'd love that!" He pauses then, eyes wide in realization, and his hands shoot up to cover his mouth daintily as he giggles. "I haven't even asked for your name. So rude, I'm sorry."   
  
Wonshik clears his throat, willing himself to not stutter, and says, "My name's Wonshik. Kim Wonshik."   
  
The man beams, reaching for Wonshik's hand, and despite the cold, Wonshik feels warmth bloom in his chest and spread to the tips of his fingers. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Cha Hakyeon."   
  
Korean, just as Wonshik was. Well, duh. Wonshik would have slapped himself for being so slow had his heart not been soaring in his chest and obliterating all other thought as they shake hands, and Wonshik invites him to the nearest café, half on auto pilot as the name echoes in his head.   
  
Cha Hakyeon.   
  
Wonshik will return to Korea, tonight, or some time soon, and perhaps he'll never meet this man again. Perhaps he will.   
  
Either way, he doesn't think he will ever forget the name.   
  
Cha Hakyeon.   
  
His muse.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥  
> If you enjoyed, liked, or loved this fic, please let me know by leaving a comment, kudos, or a little gift to me through [here](http://PayPal.Me/ChaJungPiggybank).
> 
> It's not a requirement at all, it's all completely up you. I would just be very very grateful for whatever feedback you would give me.  
> Have a nice day! ♥


End file.
